


Stranger

by fightableomo



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Bedwetting, Character Death, Emetophilia, M/M, Omorashi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:41:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26069635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fightableomo/pseuds/fightableomo
Summary: If you've read my short multi chapter 'Rookie', then you'll be glad to hear that we are continuing the idea with this new series, 'Stranger' about Jesse in an unfamiliar environment after Reyes' passing. He tries to grieve in his own way and regain his life outside of Blackwatch and DeadlockThis is a (currently) non sexual kink fic. All kinks for the chapter will be noted at the top of the chapter, and there will be a loose plot, but feel free to skip around.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you've read my short multi chapter 'Rookie', then you'll be glad to hear that we are continuing the idea with this new series, 'Stranger' about Jesse in an unfamiliar enviornment after Reyes' passing. There will be plenty of tags to be added :) 
> 
> This is a (currently) non sexual kink fic. All kinks for the chapter will be noted at the top of the chapter, and there will be a loose plot, but feel free to skip around.

_Jesse,  
You’re one of the few people that I feel deserve some sort of apology or explanation. _

_I know that in these types of situations, its easy to blame yourself, and I want you to know that you never could have stopped this. You’ve grown so much since you came here, and you’ve really grown into a proper man. I’m proud of you, kid. I wish we had more time together._

_But, I was made to die._

_In a sense, everyone is, and in our line of work, none of us are strangers to death, and it’s all we can do to hope for time with people we care about. But there’s also some beauty in knowing that if we die, it’ll have been so no one else will have to live the way we did._

_That beauty is lost in how I died, and I’m sorry for that. But I felt it was better than rotting away as my own body killed me. By now, you know how prideful I am, I could never let you see that happen, and I couldn’t let Jack see either. At the time I’m writing this, living is already becoming unbearable, and I’m thankful for my desk job._

_Kid, I hope you never get this note. If you do, it means that a sad reality has come to pass, I’ve given up. I have one or two tricks up my sleeve, but I’m not helpful. Still, you can at least say your old man didn’t give up until the very end._

_~~God that’s presumptuous.~~ _

_Jesse,  
You’re one of the few people who deserves an explanation. I’m sorry, and just know that this isn’t your fault. There was nothing you could have done to stop this. _

_At the time of writing this, I only have one last hope, one last chance for you to never get this letter, and I hope you never do. But if I am dead and you’re stuck grappling with that, just know that it was inevitable._

_My body is killing me, Jesse. You know by now that I’m too proud to let anyone see me slowly rot from the inside out. I’d rather go this way, even if it’s cowardly. It’s at least dignified._

_I don’t know if anyone has files on what’s actually going on with me. If they did, Jack would get his hands on them and I don’t want that. Even after I’m gone, it’ll kill me to know he knows I’m defective._

_I didn’t even do anything. It’s just an unfortunate side effect of being in the SEP, and I was unlucky enough to be in the first batch. Almost everyone else in my group died before leaving the test site, and the few who made it out were killed in the line of action or are now bedridden. The two others that are still alive and not suffering from other injuries are experiencing the same thing. Rapid cell death. I’ve taken it upon myself to make sure Jack doesn’t know about them either._

_For all I know, Jack is playing the same game and he’s dying too. God, I can only hope. But I think we both know that man was born fortunate. Fortunate enough to be in the last group for SEP and get the perfected enhancements, and fortunate enough not to feel anything adverse. This sickness and my age have made me bitter._

_Please don’t tell Jack about this, let him think I killed myself for another reason._

_Jesse. You’ve grown into a fine man since you’ve come to work with us. I’m so proud to have seen you grown, mijo._

_Maybe it’s the knowledge that I’m going to die soon that lets me write this, but I’m so proud of you, kid. I could never tell you this face to face, but I love you, you’re like a son to me. I’m glad we were able to get to know each other in this life._

_I don’t know what you’re going to do after this, but I guess you’re free. I always said you could leave over my dead body, and well, here we are. I’ll miss you, kid. Stay safe._

_Commander Gabriel Reyes_

Jesse read over the note a few times. Clearly, the note was still in draft form, hence the starting over. It was just a few hours after Gabriel’s funeral, but he hadn’t died in the way he alluded to in his letter. 

Jack had killed him. And he had killed Jack. And both had destroyed a considerable amount of property in the process.

Jesse knew that people would be coming to clear out Gabe’s quarters in the next day or two. It’s what happened to Ana when she was killed, and to several of his friends. But for tonight, he was the only one who was able to get in. He knew Gabriel was gone, but he still went to his room to sulk like he did several times over the last several years, enough times that Gabe caved and gave him the code to unlock the doors, though only after he’d promised to never touch anything in the room for fear of a black and blue ass. 

For some reason, he thought being in this room would be comforting. But it just gnawed at the emptiness in his heart, and the note he found in the man’s desk only made that pain worse. 

He carefully folded the note and put it in his back pocket. With that, he went and grabbed a bottle of liquor from the closet. He was lucky enough that Gabe had been confiscating contraband, even up to his last fight.

Quickly, he flicked off the cap and started drinking straight from the bottle. Sure, Gabriel had hammered a lot out of him, but he was still a man with vices, and so he drank. 

The rest of the evening and late night was spent getting drunk enough to dull the sharp edges of grief. He didn’t know what time it was, but he eventually fell asleep in Gabe’s bed, finding the crisply made bed comforting, but all too sterile and lonely. 

With plenty of alcohol, flooding his system, he should have slept straight through the night, but that wasn’t the case, Instead he woke up in the early hours of the morning for whatever reason. He opened his eyes just slightly as he felt a presence in the room. 

There, sitting on the edge of the bed was Gabriel. His eyes were sunken and his skin was pallid, scarred. He looked dead. Just as dead as he looked when parts of his body were initially recovered. 

The ghostly figure reached out a hand to card its fingers through Jesse’s hair. And for whatever reason, Jesse let it happen, not feeling afraid. 

The ghost spoke, “Mijo, I thought we agreed you weren’t going to drink,” his voice was soft, something almost unheard of for Gabe. 

The only other time Jesse heard Reyes speak with that tone was when he lost his arm and needed some assurance that he wasn’t a fuck up and going to end up killing himself with his actions. 

Jesse tried to conjure a response to the ghost, but gave up. He was still very much drunk and tired. So he just mumbled indistinctly before passing out again. 

And that time, Jesse stayed asleep, well into the day. Even as his bladder filled and made him squirm in his sleep. And he stayed asleep as his bladder gave up, tired of yelling for release at an unresponsive body. 

Piss spilled out of his sleeping form, thoroughly soaking his pants and the sheets surrounding him. 

Jesse woke up close to midday, for once not being nagged by a CO to get up. He grumbled as his head pounded and sat up. He was slow to start, but the second thing he noticed besides his hangover was the wet sheets wrapped around his waist. 

“Shit,” he breathed out. He was no stranger to wetting the bed, but it only happened when he was injured or otherwise stressed. Well, the death of a father figure wasn’t exactly not stressful. 

Groaning, he got up and striped himself of his pissy clothes. He then went and showered in the en suite bathroom, and when he came out, he grabbed the clothes laid in the drawers of Gabe’s dresser. 

When he first arrived, he had had to borrow a shirt or two after crawling into the commander’s bed like a lost kid and waking up to puke all down his front. Back then, the shirts swamped him, but now, they were only marginally too big. McCree had bulked up considerably, and Reyes slimmed a bit with age. 

Cellular death, 

Jesse shuddered briefly and pushed off the thought. Once he was dressed, he went through the room one more time, taking anything he deemed necessary. Conveniently, he found some strong pain killers in the bedside table. Still over the counter, though. He quickly downed one for his head before going to his own quarters to start packing. 

Only once he was ready to go at a moments notice did he decide to get actual food and water to stave off his hangover. He grabbed a coffee and a sandwich before going to find Angela, figuring she’d be cooped up in med bay, mourning the loss of the Swiss lab. 

Sure enough, she was there. Jesse offered a coffee, which she gladly took, “Morning, Doc.” He kept his voice chipper despite the atmosphere. 

She nodded politely, “It’s evening, Jesse.” 

“I know, I know. But I guess I’m used to Swiss time, and we’re in the UK right now.” 

“That would only count for an hour.” 

“Allright, fien, you caught me. I wanted to stay in bed a lil longer than normal. How’re you holding up?”

Angela sighed heavily, “I don’t know. I think we’re all used to loss at this point. But,” she went quiet, “I don’t think we’re done experiencing it.” 

“Never are,” he sipped his coffee, “But I know what you mean. There’s no way any of us are gonna still have a job in a few days. I mean, I’d give it a month, tops.”

Angela sighed, “You hate to see it”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “What’re you going to do?” 

She shrugged, “I’ll find some other government agency to fund my work. What about you, Jesse?” 

He shrugged, “I don’t know, but I ain’t stickin’ around until I officially get my pink slip, I’m headed out this morning, probably going to get myself a motorcycle and travel doin’ odd jobs. It ain’t nothin’ new to me.”

Angela took a long moment before responding, and when she did, she threw herself at him, wrapping him up in a hug, “I’ll miss you, Jesse.” 

A bit taken aback, he took a moment before hugging her, “I’ll miss you too, Ange. But we’ll stay in touch, neither of us are dead yet,” 

“And you had better keep it that way, cowboy.” She squeezed him tighter before letting go. “You’re one of the only people left from when I started here.” 

“Reinhardt and Torbjorn are still here. And you’ve never really had a problem makin’ new friends, now have you? You’ll be fine, Ange.” He offered her a smile, one she reluctantly returned. 

He continued, “But I understand the sentiment. It definitely feels more and more like we’re from an old generation, and we’re still young!” 

Angela nodded, “These halls are filled with ghosts of the people we knew.” 

“Yeah,” now it was time for Jesse to falter, “Yeah, it really is. By the way, you’re a scientist, how do you feel about ghosts, like real ones.” 

The blond took a moment and shrugged, “My job consists of bringing people back to life, and I can do it pretty well if they’ve only flat lined for a minute or two. I think that we might have something like a spirit that we can call back into our bodies. Why?” 

“I don’t know. The services yesterday got me a bit fucked up.” He shrugged, casting his gaze downward. He idly fiddled with his coffee cup, “I had a weird dream where the Boss was visiting me to tell me not to drink too much cause o’ him and everything. Like, I know it’s just a dumb dream, but it does make me wish ghosts were real. But then again, I think if ghosts are real, us military folk are the perfect people to haunt.” 

Angela hummed, “I don’t think I’d mind beng haunted. But I think it’s nice that you’re still thinking about him.” She reached out and put a hand on his bicep, giving it a quick squeeze. “I know you were close.” 

“Yeah.” He took a quick swig from his coffee, “I know it really didn’t seem like he was a good guy there at the end, but I’m no stranger to bein’ attached to the wrong people.” 

Angela hummed, keeping her opinion to herself. “I think you’re a good man, McCree. No matter who you attach yourself to, you’re a good person.” 

“Thanks, that really means something comin’ from you. If I’m decent, then you’re a fuckin Angel.” He grinned before finishing his coffee. Well, I’m gonna head out. Keep in touch.” He gave her a light punch to the shoulder before heading out. 

He did exactly what he thought he would do. He went and bought a motorcycle with cash, for once glad that Gabriel had kept the majority of his earnings from ever seeing his pockets before he was 25. He drew out the rest of his bank account before heading off into the unknown.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha, there's drinking and piss and vomit in this one. with a surprise appearance of Hanzo. do they remember their brief encounter as barely legal teens? no.

The first month or two on his own was fine. It was mostly a time to re-acquaint himself with the outside world and let himself be his own boss. He was quiet for once, and didn’t break the law. But he still preferred going to more run down locations and people watching there. 

But after he felt like a normal person again, he started taking gigs. He needed something to occupy his time, and he didn’t want to be wasting any money he had put away, so he did what he knew he could and became a hired gun. Though this time, he made sure none of his jobs were things he didn’t agree with. Which ended up with him doing a lot of guarding cargo. 

It was on one of these jobs that he found someone with a familiar look in his eyes. It wasn’t someone Jesse already knew, rather someone he could relate to. 

Jesse lit up a cigarette as he stood with the other man on top of the warehouse. 

The man wrinkled his nose, “Put that out.” 

“Sorry, bud. We’re outside, and I intend to make good use of this time in the air. I’ll go to the other side.” He started sauntering off, a bit disappointed he wasn’t going to end up making small talk on their watch.

“No, put it out, I don’t really want your nicotine and smoke alerting anyone that we’re here.” 

Jesse sighed, “Fine,” He stubbed out the cigarette on his metal arm and tucked it back in the case. “You always this uptight?” 

“I’ve been told I am.” 

Jesse hummed, “I guess being a lil watch dog is a good job for you, then.” He moved a few steps over and sat down next to the man, making sure not to crowd him, “How’s it feel bein’ your own boss?” 

“Pardon?” 

“Sorry if that was too presumptuous, but you got the same kinda look in your eye as I did when I was younger. Looks like you just got out of a cult or gang, and now you’re in charge a yerself. You keep lookin up and at the horizon, checking to make sure nothin’s there.” 

The man hummed, “I wouldn’t say it’s a cult or a gang, I just left my family.” 

“Still, never been your own boss before?”

“It’s. Complicated actually. I was raised to be a leader, and I did lead after my father’s death, but it’s…” He trailed off before stiffening, “Why am I telling you anything? It’s none of your business, cowboy.” 

“I know, I know. I just figured it’d be fun to shoot the shit.” 

“I’m not familiar with that phrase,” he muttered. 

“Just talk about nothin’,” He easily translated. 

“I’d hardly call talking about our backgrounds ‘nothing’.”

“Allright, you got me there. Well then, what’s your name, stranger, am I allowed to know that?” 

“Yeah, it’s Hanzo.” 

Jesse nodded, “Nice name. Name’s McCree, or Jesse. Though between you an’ me, no one but the old man called me that.”

Hanzo just hummed, “McCree it is, then.” 

The two chatted through the night, though most of what was said came from Jesse. He found himself particularly chatting around the other man, for whatever reason, desperately wanting him to warm up to him. 

But, at the end of the job, they split up.

But that wasn’t the end of their meetings. Turns out that two sharpshooters ended up with a lot of the same contracts. And everytime, that damned cowboy tried to chat up the archer. It never went anywhere and in their stead was dozens of rejected invitations for drinks, dinners and so forth. 

Hanzo would hardly say that they were friends. But, the other man was reliable, and he could shoot damn good. But that was it, he thought nothing more of there burgeoning relationship. 

That is, until they were both contracted out to a small town near Pireas, Greece. It was a fine enough town, but every single fucking hotel was booked for some shitty hotel.

It was only when he got to the third hotel that he was told exactly why he couldn’t seem to find a room in the entire area. 

Hanzo glared at the clerk that finally told him, as if they could change anything about the situation. He knew they couldn’t, but that didn’t stop him from being mad. 

It also didn’t stop him from being mad when a familiar cowboy sauntered up. The man crossed his arms and leaned over to rest his forearms on the counter, “Hey there, stranger.” 

Hanzo sighed, “We’re not strangers, Mr. McCree, we’ve been over this.” 

“I know, and that’s why you know it’s a sayin’.” He gave a low, almost forced chuckle, “Couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. Need a place to stay?” 

“That’s the problem,” He cast a sidelong glance at the man. 

“No yeah, I understand that. What I’m tryna offer you is that place to stay. I’m already booked here, and I really don’t mind sharin’ a room. There’s even the couch that pulls out. I’ll take that since you seem to be a bit prissy.” He nudged him with his elbow.

Hanzo scowled, “My preference for finery does not mean I lack the experience of hardship.”

McCree pulled himself upright and held his hands up, palm out, “Sorry for indicatin’ that. But offer stands if you need a place to stay.” He pushed off the reception desk and started to walk off. 

Hanzo sighed heavily, having to bite down his pride, “McCree.” 

At hearing his name, Jesse paused and glanced back. 

The man huffed again, “Thank you for extending your hospitality, I will take you up on your offer.” 

“Great,” He walked back over to reception and had a short word with the employee. In a few short words, a keycard was produced for Hanzo. Begrudgingly he took it, knowing he needed the money from the job. 

He followed McCree up to the room and dropped off his shit while the cowboy sulked by the door. 

“So,” he started off, almost halting, “Since we’re staying together, are you finally gonna take me up on my offer to get some dinner? I swear, that’s not me hittin’ on you or anything. I just figure we seem to work together a lot, might as well indulge in camaraderie.” 

Hanzo shook his head, “I have no interest in going out. If need be, I will order room service. Socializing is not a good idea in our line of work.” He headed for the mini fridge in the room, glad for the mini cocktail bar it held. 

“So you’re gonna stay here and get drunk?” The man cocked a brow. 

“Yes. I’ll pay for the mini bar tab.” He grabbed a few drinks, making sure to go for the higher alcohol content goods over taste. They didn’t have sake or midoriya as it was, so he didn’t care, so long as it would let him unwind.” 

“I wasn’t too worried about that.” Jesse hummed, “Well mind if I stay in and join you then?” 

“This is your room, do as you wish,” he nearly rolled his eyes at the stupid question. But, he was trying to be nicer, he might as well start by not disparaging the man. 

McCree went and grabbed a beer from the fridge and cracked it open, he tooka. Quick swig, "So I'm guessin' you're not really the type to get drunk and talk. Do you just wanna drink in silence or put on the news as background noise? Whats up?" 

"I'm more than happy to drink in silence." He took a seat at the desk as he spoke.

"Allright, I'm going to turn on the news then." And that he did taking a seat against the large bed in the room. He more leaned against it than sat.

Hanzo got drunk too quick to really care about the news. He wasn't a light weight by normal measures, but he hadn't eaten and was intentionally trying to get drunk.

Jesse laughed as his face lit up and he started slurring just a little, "Slow down, pardner. We've got work tomorrow, and I don't want you to be too hungover." 

Hanzi shook his head, "Shimadas are famous for not getting hangovers." 

"Ah, Shimada, that's yer family name? I worked with a guy named Shimada," 

Hanzo shook his head, “No relation, all my family is dead.” He tossed back a few fingers of whiskey at that. 

“Ah, sorry, didn’t mean anything by it, I just was tryna talk about whatever.” He sipped at his beer, shifting his focus to the news, “Whadya think about all the shit that’s blowing up with Overwatch?” 

Hanzo glanced at the TV, “I can’t condemn their actions.” 

Jesse hummed, “That’s fair. It’s not wise for me to condemn them either.” He took another swig, careful to not get anywhere past buzzed. 

The two chatted idly for the next while, though it was mostly Jesse who contributed to their conversation, especially as the beer dulled the edges of his mind. 

But Hanzo just got drunker and drunker, and with that, he brought a silent moodiness. 

He was drinking on an empty stomach, and he knew that going in with no food in his system. As he knocked back more and more drinks, not caring about the taste, he could feel the heavy fog of drink settle in. 

He was vaguely aware of his bladder filling up along with his stomach. It wasn’t too concerning, just a weight in his lower stomach that he knew he’d have to take care of eventually. But he knew he’d be unsteady on his feet if he stood up then, so he resolved to wait as if that would fix anything. 

Disappointing, however, was the realization that the drunk haze didn’t bring warm feelings, not this time. He had hoped that McCree’s incessant chatter would stop being as irritating. But it didn’t. It just got more and more annoying. 

The cowboy seemed more and more inclined to chat as the beers loosened his tongue. And his upbeat attitude and light peals of laughter grated on his nerves. 

Eventually, he cut McCree off mid sentence, “Can you shuddup for five goddamn minutes? Fuck.” 

Jesse did fall silent for a moment as he was interrupted but eventually just laughed at the unexpected outburst. 

That just made Hanzo angrier. His face was already quite flushed with the alcohol pulsing through his blood, but he could feel more blush flood his cheeks as he ran hot with anger and some amount of shame at being laughed at. 

He stood up abruptly, swaying a bit on his feet as he did. He pushed away from the desk, throwing the chair back in the process. His sudden flare of rage pushed him to stagger through his inebriation to swing at Jesse with just his fist. “Oh Shut Up.” 

Jesse easily caught his wrist as he started swinging, almost laughing again at how sloppy his form was now that he was inebriated. Before Hanzo could hit him with his other fist, Jesse pulled him close, almost as if they were tangoing. He had one strong arm wrapped around his waist, and his other hand holding him by the wrist, keeping the other’s hand a fair bit away. 

Taken by this pose, he almost wanted to swing him around in a twirl. But, he didn’t, he instead chastised the man, “Now I know you don’t get hung over, but if yer lookin’ to start fights with your bed mate, you might wanna slow down with the drink.” 

“‘M not drunk, an ‘m not listenin’ to you.” Hanzo slurred angrily scowling up at Jesse for a moment before giving up and resting his heaving head on his shoulder. It was dizzying looking at the other man and grounding his head on his muscled form helped. 

Jesse laughed at that, “Yer adorable.” 

With that, he swept Hanzo up as he flopped backwards onto the bed, letting his legs dangle over the edge.

Hanzo landed on him, though as he was face down, his position was a bit more skewed. His torso lay against Jesse’s, though with his crotch rested on his thigh as he straddled him, and his legs splayed out as if he were sleeping on his stomach. 

The sudden, jostling shift in his position was nothing if not uncomfortable for Hanzo. Well, more so uncomfortable for his now overfull bladder. The impact of being pulled on top of the cowboy forced a spurt out of him. 

Except it wasn’t just a spurt. 

It may have started small and hiccuping, but his bladder was unabashedly draining. The piss soaked through his underwear and clothes, creating a sizable wet patch before he reacted. 

Jesse must have felt the hot wetness of Hanzo’s leaking dick because his grip loosened. 

Hanzo pushed off his chest to get back onto his feet. Or he would have liked to. His body was far too slow to do as he commanded. Instead, he slid off the bed and onto his knees. His pee still gushed out of him, wetting his pants in sloppy lines and pooling under his knees. 

The slight pitter patter of his stream was muffled by the sparse carpeting of the hotel room. The carpeting did it’s best to sop up his tides, but he peed too much, and too quickly. His urine spilled over in a large puddle. 

He groaned as the liquid sloshed down his thighs, “Shit.” Still a little behind with his reaction, he put a hand to his crotch as if that would stem the flow. Piss still gushed out of his fingers and to the floor. 

After a moment, his stream petered off and groaned, “Shit,” was all he could breathe out. 

As he finally stopped pissing his pants, Jesse stood up, quickly side stepping his piss puddle, “Damn, didn’t think you were that drunk yet.” 

And all at once, Hanzo was aware of the other person in the room again. HIs shame ran that much deeper. He tied clearing his throat and stood up, though he was just as unsteady on his feet as he was before. 

He didn’t have anything to say. Not after such a humiliating display. As quick as his little feet could carry him, he ran into the bathroom and locked the door. 

God. How could he have just fucking pissed himself. His legs were wet and clammy now, the once hot piss cooling off way too quickly. 

His head was swimming with shame and drink, but he managed to turn on the shower as hot as it would go and stepped in. It was a bold choice, and one he soon regretted as he turned the heat down. 

He took to sitting on the bottom of the tub, naked and wallowing. The heat of the now slightly less hot shower didn’t help with his head, and soon the discomfort forced up the contents of his stomach. He leaned forward as heaves wracked his body. Liqidy vomit spewed out of him as he heaved once or twice. In the end, slimy strings of saliva and vodka scented bile hung from hi slips and facial hair, though the shower quickly washed that away. 

He groaned and leaned back, hoping his stomach wouldn’t revolt again. 

As he was lamenting his current position, a hand snuck into the shower and switched off the water, then pulled back the curtain. “Allright, you’ve been in here for a bit too long.” 

Hanzo looked up at him, though his vision swam. With a groan, he closed his eyes, “I locke’ the door’.” He slurred 

“I’m a fairly good lock pick,” He reached out and grabbed one of Hanzo’s hand. “Come on now, the heat’s not gonna do you any good and I already cleaned up your mess.” 

He pulled the man off the bottom of a tub and threw a towel over him, “Get dressed,” He gestured to his back, which was evidently brought in. 

Hanzo grumbled but did slog through the movements of getting dressed and dried once McCree had left the bathroom. Everything he had drank was certainly catching up to him, even though he vomited up his stomach contents. He was tired more than anything else. 

Once he was dressed in a simple, cotton yukata he stepped out of the bathroom, ready to just pass out on whatever surface there was. 

The couch in the room had been pulled out and made up, so he gladly threw himself onto the now bed. He struggled briefly to get under the covers before giving up. Though McCree stepped in and pulled back the covers to let him get in. 

Though as he lied down, the Cowboy spoke up, “Ah shit, I forgot one thing. Can you roll over for just a sec?” 

“Why?” Hanzo groaned, pressing his head into the pillows. 

“I just wanna put a towel under you… just in case…. Well y’know.” 

His eyes flew open at that and he managed to summon a glare, “I do not need such protection. I don’t like what you’re getting at, cowboy.” 

“I’m not tryna be rude or anything, it’s just that, well, you did piss on the floor already, and you ain’t gonna get less drunk anytime soon.” He took to rubbing the back of his neck with the tension. 

He groaned, “Leave me alone.” 

“Okay, fine.” McCree dropped the issue fairly quickly, not wanting to push anything with the drunk and still ornery man. 

Hanzo managed to fall into a hazy sleep and sleep off the rest of his drinking. Though when he woke up the next morning, his head throbbed and there was a towel, folded neatly and set under his surprisingly dry butt.


End file.
